Category Archives: NaBloPoMo

Quick Spaghetti.

When I was a kid, both my mother and my grandmother made a variety of pasta meals. My grandmother had a few signature dishes. One in particular was Quick Spaghetti which was just spaghetti with canned Hunt’s sauce. Her more time consuming recipes often involved ground beef (or ground round as she referred to it) and an onion. Not having to chop the onion or brown the beef gave this spaghetti dish its name, I suppose.  Sometimes she even had a small bowl of sauce already in the fridge covered in a piece of Saran Wrap, presumably from when she made Quick Spaghetti earlier in the week.

I guess not wanting to cook exactly like her mother, my mother did not make Quick Spaghetti. She made three small changes to the meal to make it her own. First, she made elbows or shells or twists.  Second, she used jarred sauce, but only the store brand or maybe Ragu if it was on sale. Third, and quite possibly the thing that truly set her apart from my grandmother, she didn’t heat the sauce. She just opened the jar and poured it on the hot pasta. Her rationale for this culinary short cut was that the macaroni was already hot, why bother dirtying a pot to heat the sauce? She saved time, money on the gas bill not turning on another burner for 3 minutes, and water by not having to wash the pot after. She was a trailblazer for frugal living and saving the environment.

Now, before you go saying that I’m just an ungrateful daughter who didn’t appreciate the love and tenderness that went into pouring that sauce on that pasta, let me reassure you this is not the case. I’ve got my issues with my family, but they did the best they could. My grandmother fed us every single Saturday night for most of my childhood. My mother tried, through illness, depression, and a terrible marriage that ended in divorce. I give these women credit, I honestly do. Their cooking skills though? Well, um…

Tonight my husband is not home and my kid has already eaten. I’m not sure if it’s to keep tradition alive or pay tribute to those women who are no longer here with me, but tonight I will be combining both of their recipes and making my own version of Quick Spaghetti, complete with canned Hunt’s sauce that I will not heat up. And it will be fine, because the spaghetti will make it all lukewarm, just the way I like it.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 14.

Unlucky Number 13.

How do you feel about day in the life posts?

Today consisted of the following:

  • Had plans to sell a preschool desk. This meet up was rescheduled from yesterday which was rescheduled from last week. Loaded desk into car. Plans fell through. Relisted desk on kid stuff selling website, made arrangements to sell desk to someone else, changed plans, changed plans back, sold desk.
  • Work. Busy. Blurgh. Started early but barely made a dent. I love end of the year insurance crazy (no I don’t).
  • PTA meeting.
  • Also unearthed from basement, cleaned, and sold a stroller and a highchair.
  • Spent significant time in the basement marveling at the empty space I’ve created.
  • Started laundry that I’ve just now remembered is still in the dryer. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.
  • Read a few blog posts.
  • Picked at a hangnail.
  • Regretted picking at hangnail.
  • Consumed 6 cups of coffee, a cup of tea, and a soda. Still barely able to keep my eyes open.
  • Counted emails. 540.
  • Remembered fondly the time a few months ago I was down to 200. That was a nice time.

Today I did not:

  • Make the beds.
  • Do the dishes.
  • Pick up a few things I needed from the store.
  • Vacuum. And I assure you it was necessary.
  • Write a decent blog post for NaBloPoMo. But I did write a shitty one, so there’s that.
  • Do that second load of laundry I was contemplating.

Tomorrow I need to:

  • Do all the stuff I didn’t do today.
  • Do all the regular stuff I have to do.
  • Do more stuff.
  • Write a better blog post. A much better post.

Have a good night, folks.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 13.

Always Remember To Never Forget.

I’m getting a little concerned about my brain. I read somewhere, though I cannot remember where, that sleep deprivation causes memory loss. Hang around this blog for five minutes and I can almost guarantee you that I will complain of my almost constant fatigue.

In case you’re wondering, I’m at about an eight, with one being so rested I could run a marathon and ten being lethargy. Eight isn’t so bad. Usually I’m at about an eleven at this point in the day.

The other day I was looking for a knife. I remembered that there were no clean ones in the drawer and I remembered how proud I was when I remembered to put soap in and turn on the dishwasher when it was full. After remembering all this, I opened the oven to get to the clean silverware, only to remember that the oven isn’t the dishwasher.

A few days earlier, I stood looking at my freshly brewed coffee, completely at a loss for what needed to be done so I could drink it. Remembering that I needed to put some half-and-half in, I opened the fridge and grabbed the apple juice, stopping just in time. I put the apple juice back and stood in front of the open fridge trying to remember what I needed. After about five minutes, I figured it out.

As I was putting my son to bed tonight, I reminded myself that it’s still November and so I had to write my post. Once Nathan was down, I did a few things online, got some water (which I just now realized I forgot in the kitchen), and sat down to read the yeah write grid. And THEN I remembered I needed to write this post. I was going to write about Bob Seger, but since I forgot and it’s getting late, you’re just going to have to wait on that. You’ll be happy to know that I made some notes about the Bob Seger post, so I don’t forget what I meant to write.

I’ll leave you with this thought.

Wait. What were we talking about?

This is NaBloPoMo Day 12.

Someday I’ll Have Very Little.

The house I grew up in was small. I shared a tiny bedroom with my brother until I was ten and he was twelve. There was a tiny living room, a medium sized dining room and my parents had a room. Their room was eventually split in two so that they could separate us. I’m certain if we were the same gender we’d have shared that room far longer.

In rebellion against my upbringing, I wanted a big house. I wanted a room for every whim with lots of space to spread out. Basically I wanted a McMansion.

mcmansion

(photo credit: www.nachi.org )
I guess this size house would do.

We did not buy this type of house. We chose a modest three-bedroom bilevel. It was a good size for our family of three, but would be too small should we have another child. The layout also wasn’t working for us, so we decided to move. Our current home has the same number of rooms, but with better flow and bigger rooms. If we had more than one child, I suppose this house could feel smaller, but for just the three of us it’s more than enough room. I’m not complaining and I know I’m fortunate to have the space that I do. Growing up in an overfilled small house, I don’t take for granted the breathing room I have.

Just the same, someday I will downsize. I dream of a small house, one that will hold just the essential things I need and nothing more. I am borderline obsessed with the notion of owning a Tumbleweed Tiny House. They are super cute. They are so small some are portable. I couldn’t inadvertently acquire extra things because there would literally be no place to put them. There are cottages ranging from 264 to 884 square feet. The Houses-To-Go, as they are called, range from 117 to 172 square feet.

Harbinger_1024x1024

Harbinger Cottage, 1 bedroom, 404 sq. ft.
Image Credit: www.tumbleweedhouses.com

I find that in most aspects of my life I’m drawn to the extremes. The in-betweens, though seemingly the thing that would make me more comfortable, leave me anxious. It’s almost like I don’t know where I stand. I’m sure it will be decades before I live in such compact quarters, but in the meantime, I need to start getting rid of my stuff.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 10.

I Just Wanted To Sit On My Couch.

Now, I’m not one prone to complaining, but, well, I’ve got something on my mind.

I’m about to say something you’ve heard more than once already this month: I had a post planned for today but you’re not going to see it here. And the reason, as it almost always is, is that I’m too tired to write it.

Nathan woke up at 4:30 today, but he didn’t wake me up because I’d already been up for 2 hours. So I’m well aware that I probably would be in a much better mood and less crabby today if I had gotten some sleep, but this is not the reality we are faced with.

Please, someone tell me that 7 is the magic age at which only children suddenly start to play by themselves. Please. Because if it’s 8 or, gasp, later, I’m not sure I’m going to make it.

I have parked my child in front of a borderline inappropriate show so that I could sit down for a little while and not have to entertain this kid. I played dominoes against my will, I fed him, I let him follow me around, I even let him throw stuffed animals at me. But then, when I begged for a few minutes to sit down and not hear his precious, sweet little voice talking to me for just a few minutes, he insisted upon sitting down next to me.

Now, when I say next to me, I don’t mean a foot from me or even a few inches from me. I mean practically on top of me. His head is leaning on my arm and I can barely type. We are all squished up on one end of the couch and there is enough room for him to stretch out with his head touching the other arm of the couch and his feet wouldn’t be touching me. He could sit on the love seat with his father and they would both have plenty of elbow room. He could sit on the chaise that is next to the couch I’m sitting on like a king on his throne, but no. No, he is sitting all up in my personal space.

(I cracked myself up there. Mothers don’t actually have personal space, do they?)

Do not misunderstand. This kid means the world to me, but I would really, really like it if he wasn’t sitting on me right now. I’ve asked him to move, but he declined citing an extreme necessity to be close to me. It looks like the only way I’m going to gain a little space is to go cook him dinner.

He just made me put my arm around him. That’s my cue. I’m off to the kitchen.

This is NaBloPoMo Day 9. Read more from other NaBloPoMoErs here.